To Be Turned
by puddle-of-lemonade
Summary: The war had consumed her - and living a waking death wouldn't stop her from doing what she swore to do. HermioneGinny, side SSHrG, Vampire!Hermione
1. Turned

**(Turned)**

Her eyes flickered open.

It was dark and cold and her body hurt. She took in a shuddering breath, and with it came a sharp intense pain just below her lungs. She hacked out a cough, but before her hand could cover her mouth, it knocked against something. She froze – and in a breathless moment, she reached out with a shaking hand. It hit steel just above her head.

It was so small the space she was in. Her breathing became fast and the urgent want of _out_ flooded her.

She kicked and screamed and hit the walls with her fists. Pain shot through her body with each movement, but she didn't care – she wanted _to get out now_. Her foot hit solidly against one of the sides and there was a sharp click. She stilled, then kicked at it again, only to hear the groan of metal.

Light blinded her for a moment, and the ground she lay on moved. When she took her hands away from her eyes, she peered out. A white ceiling lay above her. She turned her head to the side and saw a wall filled with doors with metal handles. Hands curling into fists, she pushed herself up unsteadily. She felt faint, her vision blurry, as she righted herself. She looked down, to see that she was firstly naked, and secondly, she was on a body-length tray. She slid off it, and the tiles beneath her feet were cold.

-_cold fingers, cold hands on her, touching her, hurting her, cold skin on her, cold skin she scratched and hit as she fought back, but it wasn't enough, not even close, it hurt so so much, cold lips, then pain, so much pain-_

A gasp escaped her. The nails of her hands dug into her palms. She took a step forward. Then another. She had to get out. She had to find out where she was. She had to . . .

-_blood, so much blood in the air, on her skin, staining her clothes, scream, she couldn't scream, cold hand over mouth, liquid fire in bloodstream, tears streaming down face, weak, weak, so weak, useless-_

She stretched out an arm, fingers spread out. She felt her fingertips touch a surface and she tried to focus on it. She saw a pair of eyes staring back at her and she started violently, falling onto the ground on her side. She scrambled back, a sob choking her.

-_energy, energy swirling in her gut, bursting, brimming, ready to explode, it filled her, then unleashed blindingly-_

She looked at the mirror, at the image staring back at her. She almost didn't recognise herself. Her skin was deathly pale, and the _wounds_ . . . It looked like a part of her neck had been ripped off, leaving a gaping hole. Slashes ran across her arms and face. With trembling hands, she touched the stitches of a Y-shaped cut on her chest.

Frantically, she looked behind her, to see a row of tables. And on those tables, lay bodies hidden by pieces of white cloth. Her eyes darted to the tray she had woken up on, then to the identical doors running beside, above and below it.

A morgue.

She was in a morgue.

She ran her fingers down the stitches. She counted them over and over again in her mind. A deep stillness filled her as she realised she wasn't dead. She was in a morgue and wasn't dead. Even though they had cut her up. Even though no blood ran from her gaping neck.

She wasn't dead.

-_thrown off, no cold hands holding her down, a sickening crunch, body aflame, nerves screaming, muscles spasms, hunger, pain, thirst, hunger, hunger, hungerhungerhunger-_

Hermione Granger wasn't dead.

But why wasn't her heart beating?

xXx

She made it up the stairs. She found a door to a wardrobe in one of the offices, and in it hung a shirt and pair of black pants. Shakily, she reached out and pulled them from the hanger, clutching the material to her chest. She sank to her knees, then to the ground as she suddenly wept. She didn't know what was happening. She didn't know why she was crying, shaking, collapsing. Nothing made sense.

She felt droplets drip off her chin and she rubbed her eyes. As her hand fell into her vision, she saw a smudge of red across the skin. She looked down at the shirt in her hands and there were spots of red on it that hadn't been there before. She brought a finger to her eye, then lowered it. Blood. There was blood, instead of tears.

Tears of blood.

_-hunger, overwhelming hunger, she could smell it, so close, so perfect, before she knew it, her body moved, her mouth open above a bared, limp neck, two bites, then the skin broke, then it flowed, all she ever tasted could never compare to it, it was everything she had ever dreamed of, it took over all her senses, filled her with such ecstasy, it was blinding, it was consuming, it was everything, it was the blood of a killer-_

She crawled into the wardrobe, the clothes held tight against her chest, and closed the door. She hugged her knees with her forehead pressed against them. She closed her eyes, shaking her head from side to side, again and again.

The blood tears never stopped.

xXx

**Author's Note:** Well, here's the beginning of the story I've been writing instead of Chaged. This story was inspired by watching a horror movie called 'Rise' with my dad in the early hours of the morning. Was a strange experience, to say the least. But what the hell. Hope you enjoy anyway.

Oh, if you want a song to go with this, listen to 'Comforting Sounds' by Mew.


	2. The Deal

**( The Deal )**

When it happened, it felt like a dream. Everything was distorted, the light too blinding, the colours too sharp, the darkness too deep. She couldn't move, for her body was so weak. It took all of her effort to open her eyes and to keep them open.

All she knew was the hunger, it thundered through her body, crushing against her skull.

There was a shape hanging over her and it was speaking, but she couldn't make out the words. Before complete darkness took her, she felt a pair of arms pick her up.

xXx

Waves of warmth pressed against her skin. Hermione opened her eyes slowly and stared at the flames of a small wood fire. She looked up behind it, to see a rounded entrance to what she realised was a cave. Her mind moved fast as she took in her situation – she didn't know where she was, she didn't know who had brought her here and she didn't know if they were friend or foe. A texture she had become very familiar with was wrapped tightly across parts of her body – bandages, someone had bandaged up her wounds.

After a moment's hesitation, she tried to roll to the side, to get up. But a voice cut her off.

'_Petrificus Totalus.'_

Her whole froze and snapped to attention, her arms forced to her sides, her legs slammed together. The beginnings of panic flared within her, but she forcibly smothered them. Panic made one irrational, and irrationality never solved anything or saved anyone. That is why Hermione did not fight against the body-bind, even when a man stood towering over her.

'Of all people, I never expected _you _to be in a situation like this, Granger,' a cold voice sneered. The man crouched down, his wand still trained upon her, and then his face came into view. Hermione felt shock dart through her body.

_Severus Snape._

It had been five years since she had seen his face. He hadn't changed much, at least on the outside. But there was a hardness to his expression she did not remember being there before. He sat down on the stony floor of the cave, and threw another log onto the fire.

'I suspect you have no idea as to what happened to you,' he carried on, almost wearily. 'As to what it all means.' He looked over at her, his dark eyes calculating. 'But we can strike a deal. That is, if you co-operate.'

Hermione let out a sliver of her magic to feel the structure of the spell. After a bout of probing and tugging, part of the spell unravelled and she pulled it with all of her magic. The spell collapsed, and a second later, she before Snape – one hand gripping his wand, the other at his throat.

'Why are you helping me, you traitor?' she hissed. 'Why should I trust you?'

His eyes were unreadable as he stared up at her angry face. He made to move his free hand, but Hermione tightened her grip as a warning.

'They turned you,' he choked out finally, 'As they turned me.'

She was silent for a long moment as she searched his face. Then she loosened her grip slightly. 'You're going to let go of your wand, and I'm going to listen,' she told him carefully. 'I don't trust you, and if you do anything I perceive as dangerous to my person, I will kill you.'

Snape let her slip his wand from his fingers and he watched her as she moved away from him. She sat down on the bedding she had woken up on, her whole stance speaking of alertness and readiness to be prepared in an instant. The sight was very unfamiliar to him, disorientating almost.

'Speak.'

His eyes never left her. 'You were attacked by a vampire in a district of muggle London.'

Hermione did not let her expression change, nor gave into the urge to touch her neck. A flash of memories rushed past her mind's eye, but she ignored them. She gave a small nod.

'But even when I checked the scene where you were found, I could not figure out what had happened. Why had the vampire turned to dust? Especially fighting against a mere witch who did not use magic against him-'

'He broke my wand when he slammed me against a brick wall,' she cut in clinically.

He stared at her as if she was a specimen under a microscope, or a very intriguing potion ingredient. She gestured with her hand for him to carry on.

'There were so many questions, so many unknowns. Even when I used revealing charms, a powerful residue magic was distorting any spells used in the area. It proved useless scouting for information there. So that's why I went to see your body,' he said, then frowned. 'Why were you there? Why were you alone?'

'Death-Eaters were raiding a shelter. We couldn't sit by and let it happen. But we were attacked outside the building and I told Ron and Harry to go on ahead.'

'Of all the foolish . . .' he shook his head sharply, then looked up at her angrily. 'Do you three even know how valuable you are in this war?'

'How valuable Harry is,' she corrected. 'I am under no impression or delusion that either Ron or I fit into the prophecy at all.'

He looked at her in disgust. 'Potter? Potter is an imbecile who needs all the help he can get-'

Hermione whipped up Snape's wand, her eyes cold. 'It has been five years, professor,' she said stonily. 'If you think that after five years of war that we are the same ignorant, naive, _innocent_ children you left behind after murdering Dumbledore, then you do not deserve the semblance of respect I have left for you.'

Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously, his gaze darting from the wand to her and back again. She could see the beginnings of a sneer forming.

'We have done things we never imagined we'd ever do,' she murmured. 'And we will keep on doing those things, and more, to stop this war.'

'Why didn't Potter and Weasley come back for you then?' he demanded nastily.

Her expression remained unchanged, the wand still held aloft. 'There is a spell that lets us know if one of our hearts stop beating. They won't go looking for me. My body held no secrets anyway.'

'But here you are,' Snape said, almost mockingly. 'You can't go back to them.'

Hermione stiffened. 'Why not?'

'You're not alive, you're not dead. They're human, and you're a vampire. That is a bridge none have ever crossed, I can assure you.'

'Whether that is true or not, I will still help them. I will still destroy the Horcruxes.'

Snape looked at her then, as if he had never seen her before. Suddenly, she saw the guilt and the ancient weariness in his eyes. This man had seen two wars, and she knew that what she had lost was small next to what he had given up for a world she had briefly known.

'I know you didn't want to kill Dumbledore.' His head shot up at her words. 'But you had no choice. And all those years ago, I knew it was you who helped Harry find a Horcrux, even though he had no clue who it was.'

'How?' he breathed out in disbelief.

'Professor McGonagall gave me the memories you asked her to safe-keep – on the night Hogwarts fell. She asked me not to hate you on her last breath,' Hermione said tightly. 'But it's hard not to, when you were the one to bring the vampires into this war a year ago.'

'I was just the messenger,' he said, but his tone made it clear he was far from defending himself. 'Both sides had already agreed to join one another outside of my influence. I was the convenient lowly vampire who could gain access to places no human could enter.'

'But you still gave Voldemort's message to them. You could have done something – forged another letter declaring war on all vampires, anything!' Hermione bit out. 'Anything that could've stopped this hell we're in.'

'I would've been killed then, you brat!' he hissed, eyes slightly wild.

'How many people have died because of the choice you made? Don't you ever stop and think of the thousands you could've saved with just your one death!?'

'Yes, of course I do!' he yelled back, his voice thick. It was almost like . . . like he was near tears. Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. 'But I'm the only one who can do it! I'm the only one I can trust to stop this war! I'm the only one who can do what is _necessary_ . . .'

'You can't trust anyone else to give up everything for it,' Hermione whispered, as it dawned upon her. Snape glared at her, his hands tight fists at his sides, his body trembling with the sheer amount of emotion he had reined in.

'My heart's not beating anymore, Snape,' she said with a smile. 'I have already given up everything for this war. All I have is a dead body and a hunger I don't understand. If you want to destroy Horcruxes, then I'll take this deal you're making – whatever it is.'

xXx

**Author's Note:** I'm updating on weekly basis, either on Saturday or Sunday – depending on when I can get to a computer. There are only seven chapters of this story and they've all been written up, so I'll be getting back to Chaged soon or later.

I had my birthday a few days ago – I was wondering . . . how old do you guys think I really am? :) Anyhow, hope you liked the chapter!


	3. Blood

**( Blood )**

It was daylight when Snape came back. He wordlessly gave her a plastic bag filled with blood, and stoically sipped from his own. Hermione had to stop herself from ripping the bag open with shaking hands. It was a struggle to gulp down the blood sedately.

Hermione made a face as she threw the empty bag away. 'That tasted like shit.'

Snape gave her a startled glance, before he smoothed the expression away from his face. 'Oh, really?'

She could see he was seconds away from making a sneering comment, so she cut him off. 'Not at all like the first time.'

His face became thoughtful. 'What can you remember of the attack?'

She looked down at the ground. 'It's . . . mostly a blur. I remember pain and helplessness. And then my body felt like it was on fire. I remember something in me bursting, like an energy, like magic perhaps. Then there was the want, the hunger for blood.' She frowned. 'I drank from him.'

Snape straightened. 'You drank from the vampire who attacked you?' he asked calmly, too calmly.

She nodded, bringing her eyes up to his.

She didn't let herself recoil or flinch from the disgust in his eyes. There was fear too, but it was not like the disgust. She stared coolly back at him, waiting. What had happened was done and gone and she couldn't change that. This fact was something she had learned the hard way in war.

'I don't know what you are,' he said coldly. 'You're a vampire, but not of the kind I know. To drain another vampire dry, till he becomes dust, is blasphemy among us. I didn't even think it possible till now.'

'Why is it called 'blasphemy'? Why is it so horrible?' she asked, not letting his gaze go.

'It's like cannibalism. You drank an immortal's life away – you took what was not yours to take.'

'He took my life, and that was not his to take,' Hermione said lowly, her eyes narrowed. 'I see it as an eye for an eye kind of exchange, thank you very much.'

Snape shook his head, and spat out, 'Impertinent brat . . .'

'So why did this blood taste awful? Surely, as a vampire I should like blood,' she carried on conversationally, ignoring his glare.

'Did you like the blood you drank from the vampire?' he asked.

'I did,' she said readily. 'It was like nothing I had ever tasted.'

A spark of hunger flashed in his eyes, before disappearing just as quickly as it came. He looked out of the cave, at the beams of light streaming in from the clouds to brush the forest's treetops. 'There has never been a case like this, at least not recorded, that is. I can only speculate.'

'I know,' she answered, staring out at the world with him.

'Perhaps you need the blood of a vampire to survive.'

She gave him a side-long glance. 'I assumed as much.'

'I'm not sure if I can help you then, if that's the case, Granger.'

'We have a deal,' she said coldly. 'I'll control myself.'

'You know how to?'

'I'll find out as I go along.'

Snape snorted. 'You've spent far too long with Potter. Such recklessness you never displayed at school.'

'Yeah, well, I learned that they're some things I can't change. So there is no point in worrying over them. But what I can do, I will do. Books may help, but they're not the absolute truth. Sometimes, you've got to run on instinct.'

'And did instinct get you killed?'

'No, my sense of duty did.'

'You and so many others,' he whispered to himself, so quietly that she strained to hear it. A strange melancholy fell over her, as she remembered a man who seemed like he would live forever, always the same, always powerful. But that old man had been killed, reminding everyone how fragile life and the world was. As Hermione looked over at Snape, she suspected he was remembering the same.

'It's time to change your bandages,' he said quietly, breaking the silence. Hermione nodded and slipped her legs out from her blankets. She sat with her back straight, her hands in her lap. With a flick of his wand, her old, soaked bandages unrolled themselves. Snape's eyes and expression did not wander beyond cold efficiency as she sat naked before him. He checked her wounds and deemed them clean -then with one word, '_Ferula,_' a whole new set of bandages wrapped themselves around her body.

'Thank you,' she said, as she pulled a blanket over her shoulders.

He gave a derisive snort, as he hung over a bubbling cauldron he had set to the side of the cave. Once, she knew she would've been amused, and a little awkward, that she had made a professor, especially one such as Severus Snape, uncomfortable. But now, it didn't seem to matter, not like Harry did, not like Ron did, not like all those innocent people she could save did.

She supposed war straightened out priorities, made them simple.

It made them so desperately clear.

xXx

The blade of her knife glinted in the fire-light as she sawed off another lock of curls. She placed it on the blanket spread across her lap, amongst the many others. She stared down at the dark brown strands, clumps and wisps with a certain detached longing. She wrapped the blanket up, taking the curls away from view, taking a part of her life away with them.

Letting the blanket fall from her shoulders, she ran a finger along the scar on her chest, above, between and below her breasts. When she came to the end of it, she reached out and pulled on the clothes that had been transfigured for her. By her bedding, lay a cross-bow, to which she took and armed it with a long steel stake.

'You ready?' Snape asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

She nodded.

He stared at her for a moment, before turning around to face her. 'You know why you have to do this. If you're to survi-'

'Save it,' she cut in, as she slung the cross-bow over her back in its sheath. 'I don't need reassurance.'

His gaze became reproachful. 'But if you hesitate for even a second-'

'I have killed before, sir.'

'Not like this.'

'And how do you know that? Been looking around in my head?' she asked disdainfully. She glanced at him, then snorted at his glare. 'I told you – save it. I don't need petty words.'

He silently watched her go to the mouth of the cave. For a moment, she stood looking up at the stars, her head flung back as brown curls danced in the night air. She tucked a curl behind her ear, then took in a deep breath and Apparated.

Suddenly, the boom of thudding music disorientated her. She had to stop herself from covering her ears, as all her senses were assaulted. She could feel the bass under her feet, vibrating up her body till it bounced around in her skull. Acrid smoke and pollution lathered itself over her skin and tongue, making her almost gag. Lights dazzled her, blinded her.

To her new, raw vampire senses, the nightclub Hermione found herself in was more than unpleasant. It was _hell_.

It took a few moments to steady herself, but then it hit her. All around her, the smell of blood and sweat filled the air, pumping beneath skin and muscle, ensnaring her swiftly. In the shadows, she peered out at the dance floor and with one look she knew her prey. He was like an exotic fruit among far plainer ones.

The vampire danced with only one human. From the way he stared at her hungrily, there was no doubt as to his intentions. The girl wouldn't see the light of another day.

Hermione found that she didn't have the space to care – her every thought was attached to the mere idea of biting that neck. She wanted to feel that neck break in her hands, to see the precious blood pour and taint skin. She could almost feel it, almost _taste_ it all. Her hunger was such that it overwhelmed the mounting horror rising up in her at the violence thundering through her mind and body.

She watched, with hands trembling in anticipation, as the vampire lured his victim away. Hermione followed them into an empty alleyway just outside of the club. With his back to Hermione, he had the girl at the wall and was kissing her.

Hermione looked over her shoulder, then up at the sides of the buildings. They were free of fire-escapes. No windows were open. She brought her gaze back to the vampire. Silently, slowly, she withdrew her crossbow and slid its arms wide. She could feel the hunger gnawing at her insides, but she ignored it as best she could. Then, in a flash, she whipped her weapon up and pulled the trigger.

She heard the skull crack before she saw the result. The girl screamed, covered in splatters of blood – before running out of the alleyway and into the street, her eyes wide and wild. Hermione flipped the vampire around, holding him up against the bricks with a hand around his throat. With her other hand, she aimed the crossbow at his chest.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she knew it, she was licking a splatter of blood off his cheek. She leaned back, and stared thoughtfully into his terrified, paralysed eyes, then shot another stake into his gut. She heard the crossbow clatter as it hit the concrete, but all she knew was the hair in her hands and the smell of sweat, alcohol and fear as she licked his neck, just over his pulse point. As the stench of his blood hit her, she bit down hard, the skin breaking easily beneath her fangs.

She could hardly describe what happened next. She felt like she was being consumed – the taste, the smell, the _feeling_ – it dragged her up to dizzying heights of almost physical pleasure. She remembered moaning and pressing her body close to the vampire's – wanting, wanting _more. _But beyond that, the next she knew she was standing above dust and bloody stakes, hardly coherent. Hermione touched her face, and felt blood dripping down her front.

She reached down and picked up the stakes. She stared at them, then slowly, a smile widened on her face.


	4. Existing

**( Existing )**

(Four Months Later)

'You've been careless,' Severus Snape said with a scowl. 'You were seen.'

She paused in her reading, her brown eyes flickering up to his, before she shrugged a shoulder. 'It depends,' she drawled, 'on how much they saw, doesn't it?'

'This is no time to be impertinent,' he bit out as he paced the room of the hotel they were staying at. 'You know why you mustn't bring the Dark Lord's attention upon yourself.'

'But it was only a matter of time, really,' she said as she turned a page, 'before he would hear about the murders. A series of unexplained deaths of immortals undoubtedly would rouse anyone's interest.'

'I knew it was inevitable, but it needn't happen so soon.'

'Perhaps.'

They lapsed into silence. After a few minutes of furious pacing, Snape sat down on edge of the bed with a sigh. Hermione turned another page of her book, then glanced up at the man. She still found it strange to see him in muggle clothes, after seeing him for many years in dark, forbidding robes. Sometimes she found it hard to connect this man to the snarky Potions professor of her school-days.

She closed her book and set it aside. Intently, she murmured, 'I'm going to go see them.'

Snape's head shot up at her words and he stared at her long and hard. His expression twisted into scowl and his dark eyes glinted angrily. 'Granger – you know why I have forbidden you to.'

'Someone has to get the information we gathered to them,' she said in a neutral voice. 'And I'm the only one who knows the types of defences they use. I created them, for Merlin's sake.'

She nearly startled when he rounded upon her. He gripped her chin with force that was neither gentle nor kind. 'Listen to me – you _cannot_ go back to your old life, no matter what you think. You're not alive or dead. You're a vampire now. If you go back to them, you'll only bring up ghosts and false hope in them. You're in a whole other world to them, goddamnit! Don't you see why, you stupid girl? Why I'm not letting you go? Even _they_ don't deserve having their dead paraded around in their faces! Can't you see that we're monsters now?'

His face was close, and because she was angry and tired – tired of being lonely and touched only when she killed – she leaned up and kissed him. She felt Snape freeze, and when he made to pull away, she snarled and tugged him back. She didn't allow him any room for thought, as she pulled him into a hard and hot open-mouthed kiss. Suddenly, they were touching, touching everywhere, and tugging at clothes. They fell onto the bed, unbuttoning buttons, never stopping kissing each other.

She couldn't get enough of the pale, scarred skin under her hands. There was a hunger, not unlike the hunger for blood, which pooled warmth in her belly. It was nearly driving her mad. She kissed him on his jaw, then beneath his ear, then on his neck. All of a sudden, Snape stiffened and a cold feeling of dread filled her gut. She leaned back and stared into his eyes searchingly. There was coldness, fear and lust in his eyes – all jumbled together into something that scared her slightly. Hermione placed a kiss on his lips, lingering and gentle, but he pulled back. He rolled away and rubbed his face with a hand, staring at her all the while.

'No,' he said quietly. 'No, not this. You don't want this.'

She sat up and looked at him, her face cleared of emotion.

'And I don't want this,' he finished.

'You don't want to court death every time we fuck, right?' she asked bluntly, unfeelingly, pulling her knees to her chest.

'I can't die yet,' he answered, scowling slightly at her use of profanity.

She gave him cold half-smile. 'I know. Not yet.'

For a long while, they sat in silence, unmoving. But then, Hermione uncurled her legs and picked up pieces of clothing from the ground and bed alike. Without a word, she passed a belt and shirt to Snape, then pulled on her own clothes. She got up and walked to the door of their room. As she stood in the doorway, she said, 'I'm going to find Harry and Ron.'

He didn't stop her.

xXx

She sat watching them from a high tree branch. She could smell the smoke of their fire, the wafting aroma of an evening meal and the tell-tale odour of travel and far-away places. The wards of the camp were all around her, ghosting her skin like fingertips, welcoming her back like an old friend. As she stared, Hermione felt detached from regret and the longing to be at their sides – where she should've been, right now, and for all these long months.

But what was done, was done and gone and she couldn't change that.

Without further ado, before courage left her, she jumped down. The second she landed on the ground, there was a yell and then a spell coming her way. She easily side-stepped it, as she did the next and the next – walking all the while towards the tents and the two men before them.

'Harry,' she said, pulling down her hood. 'Ron.'

There was a deathly silence, not even filled with a breath. She looked between the two shocked pairs of eyes, fingering her knife under her cloak just in case.

'H-Hermione?' Ron whispered, shock and a reluctant denial in his voice. 'Is that y-you?'

'Yes,' she said simply. 'But not as you wish.'

'What? What do you mean?' Ron asked, controlling himself to degree, enough to hide the desperate hopefulness in his voice. But it still shone in his eyes, so very brightly.

'I don't trust this,' Harry said coldly, his wand still trained upon her. 'If you're alive, how come we don't know your heart is beating?'

Her eyes flickered to him, her face expressionless. 'It's not. My heart stopped beating four months ago - on that day I didn't catch up with you guys.' She put a hand on her chest, and saw Harry's grip on his wand tighten. 'I'm not alive or dead. I'm a vampire.'

Both of them went white.

'I was attacked and turned that day,' she said. 'Someone wiser than me thought it better if I stayed dead to you, for the Hermione you knew is slowly dying and a monster is taking her place. I wasn't going to approach you, but the situation has gotten out of hand and I was forced to take action. I have information about a Horcrux.'

'Hermione, you're still-' Ron shook his head, his eyes sad. 'You promised me that you wouldn't let the war consume you.'

'It has,' she said quietly, 'and if I'm lucky, it'll take me whole.'

'I . . . Hermione, why did . . .' Harry drifted off, his tone tortured. 'You told me once that you'd rather die than be turned.'

'It was not my choice to make. The war is still going and there are Horcruxes to destroy. Even if I'm undead, I'm going to finish this. Even if I die, even if I never die – I'm not going to rest till this is over,' she said, a cold fire burning in her eyes. 'I'm only a tool now that won't die by normal means. Remember that.'

She reached inside her cloak and threw a roll of parchment onto the ground.

'All the information I have gathered these past months is in there. Please use it, and use it well. I can only help so much, before I will put you two in danger,' she murmured, taking a step back. 'Remember, please, that I'm not who you want me to be. The Hermione you knew is long gone. It's better if you think her dead.'

'No! Hermione!' Ron yelled, his eyes brimming with tears. 'Don't go. Don't leave us again.'

'I'm sorry,' she whispered softly, 'for giving you hope for something that has been lost. When we have won this war, I'm going to rid this earth of this existence, one way or another.'

With that, she disappeared with a crack.


	5. Waking Death

**( Waking Death )**

She slid off the roof and landed on silent feet in a dark courtyard. Her eyes could see what the weak lantern light did not touch and she padded slowly over cobbles, between raised flower beds. The drone of traffic sounded in the distance, belied by the crickets and frogs that lived in the nearby pond. Hermione slipped though a parted door and kept to the shadows, senses alert. Down the passageways, and down the stairways she went – always going down, for her prey lived in darkness.

She withdrew her crossbow, opened it, and then armed it. She did so in a fast succession that spoke of both skill and habit. She walked in under an arch into a cellar of a kind. And in there, she found a coffin.

_How terribly clichéd,_ she thought, shaking her head slightly.

As she felt the tremors of the hunger rise up inside of her, she reached out and ripped the coffin open. She shot three stakes, two of them catching the vampire's side, stopping its lightning fast movements. She grabbed the frozen vampire's hair, pulling his head to the side to bare his neck.

She drank from him, uncaringly and with abandon. The blood came with such relief, as it soothed the hunger, even if just for a little while. It was something – no, it was everything.

She rose from the coffin, leaving the pile of dust in it. Her eyes peered down at it, only to see a ring of keys amongst the crumpled articles of clothing. She picked it up and her gaze darted to a door on the far side of the cellar. She pulled her hood up, cleaning her face of blood with a sleeve as she went.

The door revealed another room and within, there were the sounds of clinking chains. As Hermione peered into the shadows, she saw a shape. It was a girl with her head bowed, the smell of old blood lingering over her. Hermione let her footsteps sound, and the girl started, scrambling back as fast as she could and as far as the chains about her wrists would allow. Frightened brown eyes fell on her.

Hermione stared, unable to believe her eyes.

'Ginny . . .?' she whispered.

'Who . . . who are you?' a startled voice asked.

Hermione took a step forward, then after a moment's hesitation, shot two stakes at the manacles at the girl's wrists. They snapped free and the girl jumped back violently, shaking alarmingly. The girl looked up, her eyes fiery as she called, 'Who are you? Show yourself!'

Hermione pulled back her hood. 'It's all right, Ginny. It's me, it's me.'

'Hermione . . .? Oh Merlin, is it really you?' the girl choked out, as she drew herself up to her knees. She gasped, clutching at her stomach, using a hand to prop herself up.

'Shh,' Hermione breathed into her ear, as she bundled the girl up into her arms. 'It's okay. I'm going to take you somewhere safe.' She paused, a gut-wrenching sadness gripping her when she saw the two puncture wounds on Ginny's neck. 'I'm going to take you to a place where they can't touch you.'

A hand clenched tightly at the material of her cloak. Ginny hid her face in Hermione's shoulder, softly sobbing, her tears seeping into the cloth. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry – I couldn't stop him. I couldn't stop _any_ of them.'

'It's okay, Gin,' she said quietly. 'You're not alone in this. You're not alone.'

xXx

_What am I doing?_

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed, staring at its occupant, her head tilted to the side. One of her hands cupped Ginny's sleeping face, her cold fingers brushing skin as she drew back the red hair. She wanted to smile down at the girl, but it was a feeling she had almost forgotten – so much so, that it felt new to her even.

_I shouldn't be doing this._

Ginny's face scrunched up and she turned it into the pillow. Hermione quickly withdrew her hand, like she had been burnt. A second after the loss of contact, the red-head's eyes flickered open. She blinked, then her gaze became frantic and she sat up rapidly, nearly knocking against Hermione.

'Ginny, it's okay,' Hermione found herself saying. 'You're in a safe house, far-away from there.'

'It . . . wasn't a dream?' she whispered, a hand covering the wounds on her neck.

Hermione stared at her, not sure of what she was feeling, not sure why she suddenly hated the vulnerability Ginny's shaking represented. She wanted to touch her, to comfort her, to wipe away all her fears - but she couldn't. Not after a vampire like herself had hurt her. 'You're okay,' Hermione said again. 'You're safe.'

Ginny nodded slowly, then again, her eyes darting around the room jerkily.

_I shouldn't be doing this, _Hermione thought, a deep stillness filling her. Her gaze flickered up to Ginny's eyes – her glassy, changing eyes. Though Hermione had no idea as to what they had done to her, she knew that Ginny was turning.

And a slow, brutal turning it was.

_But I have to._

xXx

Hermione leant against the window pane, a hand reached out to tie a scroll to an eagle owl's leg. It stood tall and proud, even imperiously, as it waited. She stroked it once, before letting it go. She didn't know how long she stood there, watching it fly away with its wings spread wide. With a muted sigh, she pulled the window closed and flicked the latch. The golden light of a street lamp flooded into the room, leaving an eerie glow across the floorboards.

'Who did you send the letter to?' a quiet voice asked from behind.

'Snape,' Hermione murmured absently. 'He's an ally, you know. Always has been. He's been helping us from the very beginning.'

She looked over her shoulder as the silence stretched. Hermione stared at her, as she sat on the bed, her knees drawn close to her chest and her head upon them. Her long red hair had become a muddy bronze in the yellow light.

'What happened to you?' Hermione asked, turning around to face her. 'When the Burrow burned, we thought that you had died . . . with everyone else.'

Ginny closed her eyes. 'Death-Eaters captured me in the fighting, then sold me to the highest bidder.' A shudder ran through her body, and her knuckles went white as she clutched at her legs. 'Then I was sold and used again and again, like a toy.'

She opened her eyes and brought her gaze up to Hermione's, her pupils distorting and quivering even though her eyes did not move. Her voice was detached as she added, 'They broke my wand.'

Hermione's hands rolled into fists at her sides. She smoothed all emotion from her face as she turned to stare out the window. 'They broke mine too.'

'Hermione . . . are you a vampire?'

It was such a soft murmur that Hermione hoped she could claim ignorance of it. But she couldn't. Not to her.

'I am,' Hermione breathed out. 'But not by choice.'

'I know,' she whispered in reply. 'And I know you've changed because of it. I can see it. But even if you're different from the Hermione I knew – there are some things that will never change.'

'I swore to end this war, whether I lived or died. I will end it, even if I have to suffer this waking death, this hell I'm living.'

Hermione stared out into the night, watching the cars drive by down below. On the opposite side of the road ran a line of tightly packed buildings. People walked along the pavement, couples here and there, groups moving in clumps – all together, talking and laughing. A wave of loneliness swept past her, leaving an ache behind.

'Hermione . . . what's happening to me?'

Hermione gasped in a breath, close to letting the bitter laughter out as the blood tears brimmed in her eyes. In her mind, the words _cruel _and _unfair_ played over and over again like a broken film.

'Am I dying?' Ginny asked. Hermione hated how small and scared she sounded.

'No,' she said, almost choking on her words. 'No, it's worse.'


	6. Close

**( Close )**

There was a knock on the door.

Hermione looked up from her book, then frowned. She got up, her eyes narrowed, as she sniffed the air. She could smell the cheap perfume that lingered in the hotel room air, the musty carpets, the disinfectant, and the whiff of something not quite human. She stalked to the door on silent feet, her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her knife at her belt.

But just then, as she closed in on the door, a Patronus walked through it. It was doe, and it looked up at her imploringly with silvery eyes. She sighed, feeling a flare of relief course through her. She pressed her forehead against the door for a moment, before opening it.

Hermione stared at Snape. His face was impassive, his dark eyes unreadable. For a second, Hermione remembered how he had tasted, how the lust had burned in his eyes and how his skin had felt against hers. But as quickly as it had come, it went.

'As least you waited for the security protocol this time,' Snape said. His voice had its usual coldness, its reluctantly polite quality. 'Are you going to let me in?'

Hermione slipped into the hallway and closed the door behind her almost completely. Snape's eyebrow rose at the sound of a running shower within the room.

'I've got a guest,' Hermione said indifferently. 'Now, what is so urgent that you had use an owl? You know how unsafe they are. They can be intercepted easily.'

'You didn't meet me at the next location,' Snape hissed, glancing down the hallway. 'What was I to think? Are you doing this because you're still angry with me?'

'I was busy, sir,' she said as she crossed her arms. 'I'm not angry with you. Merely frustrated that you won't sleep with me. But I know why you won't, and, unfortunately, I understand your reasoning. We have bigger things to worry about.'

Snape gave her a slightly stunned look, before he shook his head. 'Of all the women . . .' he muttered, before saying seriously, 'Potter and Weasley heeded you. Two more Horcruxes have been destroyed. The last three – the Dark Lord, Nagini and Potter himself – are all that remain.'

'Will the defences you left behind in Harry's mind work?'

'They were created and tested by Albus, Granger,' Snape said derisively. 'I have the greatest respect for them and their capabilities. This is no place to argue over this – again.'

Hermione's eyes narrowed. 'Do you have any other information for me?'

'No.'

'Then I must go back and attend to my guest. Will you excuse me?'

'Granger,' Snape said warningly. 'This is no time for being petty.'

She stopped mid-turn, her hand on the door. 'You don't want what I want. You said so yourself. You're the one being petty – by mentioning our little lapse in judgement again and again.'

His face went blank. 'So you are content to never speak of it again?'

'Truthfully? Yes.'

His back straightened almost painfully. 'I see.'

Hermione stared up at him, then glanced down at his hands. Ever so slightly, they trembled. She reached out and cupped his face with a hand. 'Think of what we have promised to do,' she murmured, not letting his gaze go. 'I'll hurt you more than spare you from the grief. I have little love to give.'

'What if I don't want love?'

'You do. You always have. But you only ever wanted it from one person.'

He jerked away from her, like he had been burnt. He stumbled back a step, his eyes wider than they had been before. He stared at Hermione, his mouth parted as if to speak. But he said nothing, not when he turned around, walked away and disappeared.

She let him go and didn't smile, for she knew that the next time she would see him would be the last.

They had a deal, after all.

xXx

'I can feel it, you know. It's close.'

Hermione looked across at Ginny, at her small huddled form on the bed. She listened to her words, and a feeling she couldn't quite place – dread, sadness or guilt, she didn't know – settled in her gut. She could see how pale Ginny was, how much she shook beneath the blankets.

But she couldn't do it.

Hermione couldn't kill her. Perhaps it would be the right thing to do, the just thing, but she couldn't. This body she had was made to kill, but still it froze whenever she thought of draining Ginny dry. She didn't know why, and a part of her didn't want to know.

Ginny stared back at her, straight into her eyes unblinkingly. She uncurled herself and proffered her hands out, palms upwards. Something in her gaze beckoned Hermione closer – patiently, quietly, without a doubt. Hermione sat down on the edge of the bed, taking a hand in her own and holding it gently.

Ginny leaned forward, her eyes open and starkly clear, as their lips touched. She lingered for a moment, before she drew back, and said, 'I don't want to be alone.'

'I can't give you much,' Hermione whispered.

'I know. But if you're by my side, that'd be enough.'

Hermione put her hand on Ginny's neck, over the scars. The red-head came close, and she could smell the changing blood beneath her skin. Foreheads touching, she said but a breath away, 'I don't want to be alone either.'

They kissed, soft and chaste. The blood-tears slipped down Hermione's cheeks all the while, unnoticed and unsaid.

xXx

She held her throughout the turning.

Hermione could do nothing about the pain or tears or the pleas for it to all stop. Only once did Ginny ask Hermione to kill her – to make it all _stop_. But Hermione couldn't, didn't respond. The only thing she could do anything about was the hunger.

As Hermione sliced her wrist open and lowered it to Ginny's mouth, all she could think was: _I'm sorry_.


	7. Epilogue

**( Epilogue )**

Hermione looked out at the horizon and saw the beginnings of the dawn coming.

She turned and threw wood onto the bonfire, adding fuel to the flames that lapped at the sky. A wind had sprung up, sweeping past her, blowing the hill's grasses to and fro. She could hear the rustling of leaves, the crackling of burning wood and the roar of victory and grief from the battlefield. She didn't care that the smoke gave away their position, for there was no need to care.

They had won – the war was over and Voldemort was dead.

She looked through the waves of heat, the dancing and flickering tongues of fire, only to see within Snape's corpse crumbling into ash. A steel stake glowed in the coals.

_I kept my promise, you bastard._

'What are we going to do now?' Ginny asked, as she stood at her side. She slipped her hand into Hermione's and held it tight.

'I don't know,' Hermione said, shrugging a shoulder. They both looked at the horizon, at the sunrise's glow that touched the underside of the distant clouds. 'We could watch the sunrise together.'

Ginny glanced at her askance, then smiled a smile that made Hermione feel like she could almost love her.

'Let's do that then.'


End file.
